Disclaimer: Go ahead and sue me. That'd be good pr: big TV network sues poor college student barely making tuition. Come on. I dare ya! (Um…you get I'm joking, right? Love you CBS guys/gals.)
Author's Notes: I'm trying to update all the active stories I currently have up. It may take me a while, but I'll try to get the next part up as soon as possible. Encouragements are revered for all they're worth.
* * *
Wales
12:30 a.m.
"Sydney, this is Agent Kendall, do you read me?"
Sighing, she adjusted her earpiece and smiled charmingly at the French man who swung by with a tray of "fancy sandwiches."
"What do you want Kendall," she asked with clinched teeth, still smiling as the man walked passed her.
"What do I want? I want to know if you're still working with us. I'm aware of your frustration with having your handler replaced so suddenly, but Agent Mallory is just doing his job…as you should be."
Sydney snorted. The irony of someone like Kendall lecturing her about ethics did not escape her.
"I'm at the auction house in Wales. Mallory gave me my briefing twenty minutes ago" she replied, ignoring his earlier comments.
There was a long pause and then, "Just get the job done, Agent Bristow. No more games."
"No more games," Sydney confirmed sharply. The radio went silent.
* * *
Wales
12:10 a.m.
"Agent Bristow?"
Sydney turned. "Agent Mallory?" she asked, uncertainly. The man was young, with the face to match.
"Yes. It's good to meet you face-to-face," the young man said with a smile that was a little too wide for Sydney's liking. She took the offered hand and flashed her "third grader taking her school picture" smile.
"The Rambaldi ring," Sydney inquired, pulling her hand away and looking away from Mallory. She had managed to break away from Dixon when they entered the auction house, but it wouldn't be a matter of minutes before he came looking for her.
"Oh, yes. There will be no initial switch of the rings as planned by Sloane. Agent Mathaney, aliased Matt Kandolph, will purchase the ring and you will rendezvous with him as he goes to pick up his purchase. Agent Mathaney will collect the necessary data from the ring and then the switch for the dummy ring will be made. You will then complete your mission and deliver the real ring to SD-6."
Sydney nodded her understanding. "Are we through?" she asked, any menace she intended came out as weariness.
"Yes. Good luck Agent Bristow."
* * *
Three days after
Los Angeles
8:00 a.m.
"Good morning Mr. Weiss. How do you feel this morning?" A small Japanese woman in a clean, white nurse's uniform asked while pulling the curtains open.
Weiss smiled, feeling triumphant in having rid his room of Nurse Evelyn. Known by the entire third floor as Nurse Ratchet, Nurse No Fox Sportsnet for you even though you're suffering from terminal boredom and laying on thin, cold hospital sheets…the probable ex-head nurse of a Nazi internment camp…
Hey, who says ridding the world of evil starts with the K-Directorate? Weiss was feeling damn proud of himself.
"I think you have a visitor this morning, that is, if you're up to it," the young nurse asked, looking to Weiss for an answer.
Weiss shrugged. "Sure, got nothing else to do."
Smiling, the nurse nodded. "I'll let him in then."
He eyed her with an undeserved amount scrutiny as she collected his breakfast tray and exited the room.
She did not return.
A few moments after a light shuffling sound could be heard down the typically lifeless hallway, but just as soon stilled. Reverting his attention back to the door, Weiss met the eyes of a rather tall man, average build, leaning his compact frame against the entrance way. For a moment, Weiss almost marveled at the man, seemingly priestly in stature and poise. Long face, deep set chin –blonde, no, in the fluorescent light of the hospital room, it appeared white. Weiss thought he looked like one of the numerous jocks he knew in high school, except this man was wearing a starched white shirt and a CIA issued shoulder holster with trimmings.
"Agent Eric Weiss? I'm Agent Sean Mallory. I was wondering if we could…chat."
* * *
Los Angeles
CIA HQ
8:00 p.m.
"He wanted to 'chat' with you?" Sydney asked, disbelieving.
Weiss, for the fourth time since he called Agent Bristow into a meeting in his office, squirmed at the loudness of her voice.
"Sorry," Sydney whispered and shot him a sympathetic look. Twisting the blinds shut, Weiss hobbled over to his desk and managed to retrieve a single, manila folder amidst the ocean of paperwork currently occupying his front desk.
Handing it to her, he continued in a hushed voice, "Yes…listen, the Bureau in Chicago has a three year old file on a group that call themselves 'The Order of Seers.' A small band of what the Bureau considers terrorists; they have a following of a hundred or so."
"So what?" Sydney asked, eyes pouring through mug shot after mug shot of all the known members of this so-called cult.
"They have a ton of paperwork, documentation that they believe, prove they are the descendents of Rambaldi, and therefore, heir to all his secrets. Check out the pretty face on the last page of that file."
Sydney turned the folder around and flipped to the first page on the back. There, staring at her with unabashed familiarity, was the youthful face of Agent Mallory.